


Being Useful

by Mackem



Series: Imaginary Advent Calendar 2012 [23]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bottom Derek Hale, Dom/sub, Dominance, F/M, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 04:28:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/605821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mackem/pseuds/Mackem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia needs a place to write her Christmas cards, and Derek Hale's shoulders are just perfect for the job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Being Useful

**Author's Note:**

> Every year, I write what I call my Imaginary Advent Calendar, where each day until December 25th I open another day of an advent calendar that doesn’t exist and write what I picture various people or characters in different shows/fandoms/books in a holidays context. This year I’ve challenged myself to write a ficlet for every day. See Vicky panic! They’ll be in various different fandoms and pairings, and won’t be particularly long (except the ones that eat my brain). Enjoy! X!
> 
> So I had this sudden lust to see Lydia as a dom to Derek. I don't know. Right now I can't even think of a scene with them together. I'm guessing this must be something of an AU situation - Derek is still a beta, but Lydia's still been through all the shit she had to endure. I am also a sucker for dom/sub situations which aren't inherently sexual.

Lydia makes a point of sending Christmas cards every year. She hand-writes each one, and makes sure to write a short message in each, because she knows how special the personal touch is. 

Not everyone gets one, of course. She sees some of her fellow students issuing cards indiscriminately, practically handing them out in the school halls to anybody passing by. What, precisely, is the point in distributing cards to relative strangers? Lydia cultivates a list of those she deems worthy of a card throughout the year; _this_ year has seen quite a few changes. Gone are the people whose only positives are merely being beautiful or influential; Lydia has replaced them with people who have supported her, hell, _protected_ her over the past confusing year. 

It feels like a step forward. 

There aren’t a huge amount of cards, of course, but writing them still takes longer than Lydia would like. It’s not the most diverting of tasks. Still…she purses her lips as she stares at the box of cards, then glances out of the window at the forest. Perhaps she has a way of making it more interesting.

***

A few raps on the door of the Hale house are all it takes to get Derek on the porch. “What are you doing here?” he asks, brow furrowed.

“Is that any way to say hello?” Lydia pats him on the stubbled cheek and breezes past him into the house. “I need you. I have cards to write, and I need something big and strong to rest on. That‘s where you come in,” she announces cheerfully. Derek frowns as he closes the door.

“What?” 

“Don’t try that, sweetie, you’re a werewolf. Your hearing is exceptional,” Lydia tells him as she steps into Derek’s living room. A fire flickers in the hearth, flames licking over crackling logs and throwing a warm glow into the room. Lydia settles herself in the armchair beside the fire and gives Derek a bright smile as he stalks after her.

“That’s my seat,” he snaps. She pulls her stack of cards from her bag and flicks through them.

“It was,” she says easily. “Now it’s mine.” Derek scowls, eyebrows drawing together.

“Get up.”

“No.”

“Get up!” he shouts, towering over her, his body language angry and aggressive. His eyes glow blue in the soft light of the fire. 

Several months ago, Lydia would have been intimidated. She would probably already have run from this house, from this _man_. Now, given that she knows how he looks with her favourite sparkly pink vibrator buzzing inside his gorgeous backside, and the way his voice breaks when he begs to lick her cunt, she merely arches an imperious eyebrow at him and stares him down.

“Don’t you dare raise your voice at me,” she says mildly.

He lasts a good minute in her icy gaze before he looks away. “Sorry,“ he mutters. Lydia smiles in satisfaction as Derek backs off, breathing deeply through his nose until his eyes fade to their natural mossy green. She crosses her legs primly and offers him a bright smirk. 

“Good boy.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Oh, _please_ ,” she scoffs. “You think I don’t know exactly what those words do to you? Maybe you think I’m blind and deaf, Derek? I’d have to be, to miss how much you _adore_ that praise. Now what do you say?” she adds pointedly. The silence stretches out for a moment, until Lydia sighs in disappointment. “Have you forgotten everything I’ve taught you? I praised you, Derek. What do you _say_?” 

Derek aims mutinous green eyes at her. Lydia meets his gaze effortlessly, and smiles again when he eventually looks down. 

“Thank you,” he mutters. The words are forced out reluctantly, but Lydia sees the flush in his cheeks and the way his defensive posture relaxes. She beams, proud of him.

“That’s better. That’s my good boy.”

“Why are you _here_?” Derek asks, his voice low. “You said our next session wouldn’t be until school breaks up.”

“I did say that,” Lydia agrees, and taps a pen off her pursed lips. It does the trick; his eyes focus on her mouth immediately. She takes the tip of the pen between her teeth and grins at him, laughing softly when he looks away, embarrassed. “I changed my mind. Are you saying you don’t want me here?”

“No,” Derek mumbles.

“Because I can’t help noticing you let me in, you haven’t even _tried_ to get me to leave -”

“- I said no!” Derek protests. “I didn’t say I don‘t want you here! All I said was that you’re in my _seat_.”

“You don’t need it any more,” Lydia assures him. She gives him a businesslike gesture with her pen. “Shirt. Off.”

He scowls, and crosses his arms defensively once more. “Why?”

“Because I told you so,” Lydia says pointedly. Still he glares at her, his body language uneasy and wary. Maybe not telling him of her intention to start one of their sessions beforehand has unsettled him more than she expected. Lydia takes pity on him; he needs to relax, to be eased into the headspace he finds so hard to reach on his own. She offers him a warm smile. “You want to be a good boy, don’t you?” she asks gently.

“You…” Derek starts, his voice rough. He clears his throat and turns his gaze from her. “You know I do.”

“I know. You _are_ my good boy,” murmurs Lydia. She sets her cards and pen on the floor and gets to her feet, heels clicking on the hardwood floor as she moves to him. His eyes fix on her once more, tracking from her face to her breasts and the glimpse of bare skin between her boots and the line of her skirt. Lydia smiles fondly at him. She leans into his personal space and strokes one hand through his dark hair, cupping his cheek with the other. 

Derek blinks down at her, the effect of her touch against his skin as powerful as ever; his pupils dilate, and his breathing deepens as he relaxes into her presence. “You want to make me happy, don’t you?” Lydia asks.

“Yes,” he murmurs immediately. His voice is low and rough; he moans softly as she tugs him down into a kiss. “I like to see you happy,” he admits, as he noses against her throat and breathes in her scent.

“Right now, you can make me happy by taking your shirt off,” Lydia suggests softly. She grins when Derek issues a shaky nod and capitulates; he peels off the soft, grey shirt and lets it drop to the floor without a second thought. Lydia coos at the sight of him, her hands stroking over his bare chest. She lets her nails scrape lightly over his pecs and down onto his stomach, tracing soothing circles against his skin and listening as his breathing deepens further. “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Now come with me,” she commands lightly, taking his hand to pull him across the room.

Derek is all too willing for Lydia to arrange him to her liking. She gets him kneeling up directly in front of the armchair, his hands on his thighs, his head bowed. His hair is calling out for her to pet it so she rakes her nails over his scalp as she admires him; he suits being on display like this, with the light of the fire flickering over the broad expanse of his flesh. Derek sighs at her touch, and blinks silently up at her through his eyelashes.

“You make such a pretty sight,” grins Lydia, delighted when a small, genuine smile blooms on his lips. She presses a fond kiss to his forehead and smiles when he sighs again, his breathing slow and regular. “You like being posed for me, don’t you? You like being useful.”

“Yes,” Derek murmurs. His voice is low, his body still as she trails her hands over his bare skin.

“You’re being so good,” Lydia praises softly. “Keep it up, sweetie.”

The armchair is still warm, and supremely comfortable as Lydia settles on it once again. She takes off her shoes and wraps her bare legs around Derek, crossing them at the ankle and settling her feet in his lap. He clears his throat. “Am I allowed to touch you?” he asks, voice rough.

“If you want,” Lydia allows. A smile spreads across her face when large hands close around her calves, stroking softly at her skin, and she sees him exhale in relief. Derek always appreciates touching, and being touched. It settles him like nothing else. “Good boy. Hush now, sweetie, and hold still,” she commands as she pulls the first card from the floor and spreads it over his broad shoulders. She readies her pen and smiles in satisfaction. “I’m busy.”

It takes well over an hour before Lydia has a neat pile of Christmas cards, all written out, in envelopes and ready to be delivered. In that time, Derek neither speaks nor moves.

Lydia just watches him for just a little while, when she’s done. He is still holding himself upright, his back held proud for her, but his head is hanging and she can see the fine trembling of his muscles beneath his skin as he strains to keep his position. When she moves to kneel in front of him and guides his head up, his eyes are hazy and his pupils are blown. “Doing okay, sweetie?” she asks softly, brushing his damp hair back. His chest rises and falls deeply as he breathes. 

It takes him awhile to get his mouth in working order. “I’m fine.”

“I need to head home,” she murmurs. She gives him a soft smile as he blinks slowly; Derek is so beautiful like this, when he is sunk deep and lost to the rest of the world. “Are you with me, sweetie?”

“Mmhmm.” He stretches as she pulls him to his feet, joints popping and making him groan in relief. “You should go straight home.”

“I will,” Lydia laughs softly, and strokes his hair again. “Do you want me to take you up to bed before I go?”

Derek nods silently, and lets her guide him.

He slings an arm around her shoulders as they walk, his head still bowed and his breathing slow and even. Lydia holds him close to her, linking the hand at her shoulder with her own and wrapping her other arm around his waist as they slowly make their way upstairs. Lydia adores the way he is at the end of every session together, whether sexual or otherwise; he always looks to her as if she is the only thing in his world, breathing her in and bending to her will without a thought of refusing. 

After Derek collapses onto his bed she lingers for awhile, pulling the covers over him and stroking his hair fondly as he closes his eyes. “Good night, sweetie.”

Lydia is about to leave when Derek speaks up. “Lydia.”

“Hmm?”

He shifts until he has his head rested on his arm, and aims a small, gentle smile at her. “Thank you.”

She closes the door behind her with a satisfied grin.


End file.
